uleg.thefarthestshore-第11节

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the　city　a　dream　city；　empty　and　dreary　in　the　hazy　sunlight。
　　Only　at　the　top　of　the　town　where　they　went　to　rest　a　while　in　late　afternoon　did　this　sickly　mood　of　daydream　break　for　a　while。　〃This　is　not　a　town　for　luck；〃　Sparrowhawk　had　said　some　hours　ago；　and　now　after　hours　of　aimless　wandering　and　fruitless　conversations　with　strangers；　he　looked　tired　and　grim。　His　disguise　was　wearing　a　little　thin；　a　certain　hardness　and　darkness　could　be　seen　through　the　bluff　sea…trader's　face。　Arren　had　not　been　able　to　shake　off　the　morning's　irritability。　They　sat　down　on　the　coarse　turf　of　the　hilltop　under　the　leaves　of　a　grove　of　pendick　trees；　dark…leaved　and　budded　thickly　with　red　buds；　some　open。　From　there　they　saw　nothing　of　the　city　but　its　tile　roofs　multitudinously　scaling　downward　to　the　sea。　The　bay　opened　its　arms　wide；　slate　blue　beneath　the　spring　haze；　reaching　on　to　the　edge　of　air。　No　lines　were　drawn；　no　boundaries。　They　sat　gazing　at　that　immense　blue　space。　Arren's　mind　cleared；　opening　out　to　meet　and　celebrate　the　world。
　　When　they　went　to　drink　from　a　little　stream　nearby；　running　clear　over　brown　rocks　from　its　spring　in　some　princely　garden　on　the　hill　behind　them；　he　drank　deep　and　doused　his　head　right　under　the　cold　water。　Then　he　got　up　and　declaimed　the　lines　from　the　Deed　of　Morred；
　
　　Praised　are　the　Fountains　of　Shelieth；　the　silver　harp　of　the　waters；
　　But　blest　in　my　name　forever　this　stream　that　stanched　my　thirst！
　
　Sparrowhawk　laughed　at　him；　and　he　also　laughed。　He　shook　his　head　like　a　dog；　and　the　bright　spray　flew　out　fine　in　the　last　gold　sunlight。
　　They　had　to　leave　the　grove　and　go　down　into　the　streets　again；　and　when　they　had　made　their　supper　at　a　stall　that　sold　greasy　fishcakes；　night　was　getting　heavy　in　the　air。　Darkness　came　fast　in　the　narrow　streets。　〃We'd　better　go；　lad；〃　said　Sparrowhawk；　and　Arren；　said；　〃To　the　boat？〃　but　knew　it　was　not　to　the　boat　but　to　the　house　above　the　river　and　the　empty；　dusty；　terrible　room。
　　Hare　was　waiting　for　them　in　the　doorway。
　　He　lighted　an　oil　lamp　to　show　them　up　the　black　stairs。　Its　tiny　flame　trembled　continually　as　he　held　it；　throwing　vast；　quick　shadows　up　the　walls。
　　He　had　got　another　sack　of　straw　for　his　visitors　to　sit　on；　but　Arren　took　his　place　on　the　bare　floor　by　the　door。　The　door　opened　outward；　and　to　guard　it　he　should　have　sat　himself　down　outside　it：　but　that　pitch…black　hall　was　more　than　he　could　stand；　and　he　wanted　to　keep　an　eye　on　Hare。　Sparrowhawk's　attention　and　perhaps　his　powers　were　going　to　be　turned　on　what　Hare　had　to　tell　him　or　show　him；　it　was　up　to　Arren　to　keep　alert　for　trickery。
　　Hare　held　himself　straighter　and　trembled　less；　he　had　cleaned　his　mouth　and　teeth；　he　spoke　sanely　enough　at　first；　though　with　excitement。　His　eyes　in　the　lamplight　were　so　dark　that　they　seemed；　like　the　eyes　of　animals；　to　show　no　whites。　He　disputed　earnestly　with　Sparrowhawk；　urging　him　to　eat　hazia。　〃I　want　to　take　you；　take　you　with　me。　We've　got　to　go　the　same　way。　Before　long　I'll　be　going；　whether　you're　ready　or　not。　You　must　have　the　hazia　to　follow　me。〃
　　〃I　think　I　can　follow　you。〃
　　〃Not　where　I'm　going。　This　isn't。。。　spell…casting。〃　He　seemed　unable　to　say　the　words　〃wizard〃　or　〃wizardry。〃　〃I　know　you　can　get　to　the…　the　place；　you　know；　the　wall。　But　it　isn't　there。　It's　a　different　way。〃
　　〃If　you　go；　I　can　follow。〃
　　Hare　shook　his　head。　His　handsome；　ruined　face　was　flushed；　he　glanced　over　at　Arren　often；　including　him；　though　he　spoke　only　to　Sparrowhawk。　〃Look：　there　are　two　kinds　of　men；　aren't　there？　Our　kind　and　the　rest。　The。。。　the　dragons　and　the　others。　People　without　power　are　only　half…alive。　They　don't　count。　They　don't　know　what　they　dream；　they're　afraid　of　the　dark。　But　the　others；　the　lords　of　men；　aren't　afraid　to　go　into　the　dark。　We　have　strength。〃
　　〃So　long　as　we　know　the　names　of　things。〃
　　〃But　names　don't　matter　there…　that's　the　point；　that's　the　point！　It　isn't　what　you　do；　what　you　know；　that　you　need。　Spells　are　no　good。　You　have　to　forget　all　that；　to　let　it　go。　That's　where　eating　hazia　helps；　you　forget　the　names；　you　let　the　forms　of　things　go；　you　go　straight　to　the　reality。　I'm　going　to　be　going　pretty　soon　now；　if　you　want　to　find　out　where；　you　ought　to　do　as　I　say。　I　say　as　he　does。　You　must　be　a　lord　of　men　to　be　a　lord　of　life。　You　have　to　find　the　secret。　I　could　tell　you　its　name　but　what's　a　name？　A　name　isn't　real；　the　real；　the　real　forever。　Dragons　can't　go　there。　Dragons　die。　They　all　die。　I　took　so　much　tonight　you'll　never　catch　me。　Not　a　patch　on　me。　Where　I　get　lost　you　can　lead　me。　Remember　what　the　secret　is？　Remember？　No　death。　No　death　…no！　No　sweaty　bed　and　rotting　coffin；　no　more；　never。　The　blood　dries　up　like　the　dry　river　and　it's　gone。　No　fear。　No　death。　The　names　are　gone　and　the　words　and　the　fear；　gone。　Show　me　where　I　get　lost；　show　me；　lord。。。　〃
　　So　he　went　on；　in　a　choked　rapture　of　words　that　was　like　the　chanting　of　a　spell；　and　yet　made　no　spell；　no　whole；　no　sense。　Arren　listened；　listened；　striving　to　understand。　If　only　he　could　understand！　Sparrowhawk　should　do　as　he　said　and　take　the　drug；　this　once；　so　that　he　could　find　out　what　Hare　was　talking　about；　the　mystery　that　he　would　not　or　could　not　speak。　Why　else　were　they　here？　But　then　（Arren　looked　from　Hare's　ecstatic　face　to　the　other　profile）　perhaps　the　mage　understood　already。。。　Hard　as　rock；　that　profile。　Where　was　the　snubbed　nose；　the　bland　look？　Hawk　the　sea…trader　was　gone；　forgotten。　It　was　the　mage；　the　Archmage；　who　sat　there。
　　Hare's　voice　now　was　a　crooning　mumble；　and　he　rocked　his　body　as　he　sat　cross…legged。　His　face　had　grown　haggard　and　his　mouth　slack。　Facing　him；　in　the　tiny；　steady　light　of　the　oil　lamp　set　on　the　floor　between　them；　the　other　never　spoke；　but　he　had　reached　out　and　taken　Hare's　hand；　holding　him。　Arren　had　not　seen　him　reach　out。　There　were　gaps　in　the　order　of　events；　gaps　of　nonexistence…　drowsiness；　it　must　be。　Surely　some　hours　had　passed；　it　might　be　near　midnight。　If　he　slept；　would　he　too　be　able　to　follow　Hare　into　his　dream　and　e　to　the　place；　the　secret　way？　Perhaps　he　could。　It　seemed　quite　possible　now。　But　he　was　to　guard　the　door。　He　and　Sparrowhawk　had　scarcely　spoken　of　it；　but　both　were　aware　that　in　having　them　e　back　at　night　Hare　might　have　planned　some　ambush；　he　had　been　a　pirate；　he　knew　robbers。　They　had　said　nothing；　but　Arren　knew　that　he　was　to　stand　guard；　for　while　the　mage　made　this　strange　journey　of　the　spirit　he　would　be　defenseless。　But　like　a　fool　he　had　left　his　sword　on　board　the　boat；　and　how　much　good　would　his　knife　be　if　that　door　swung　suddenly　open　behind　him？　But　that　would　not　happen：　he　could　listen　and　hear。　Hare　was　not　speaking　any　more。　Both　men　were　utterly　silent；　the　whole　house　was　silent。　Nobody　could　e　up　those　swaying　stairs　without　some　noise。　He　could　speak；　if　he　heard　a　noise：　shout　aloud；　and　the　trance　would　break；　and　Sparrowhawk　would　turn　and　defend　himself　and　Arren　with　all　the　vengeful　lightning　of　a　wizard's　rage。。。　When　Arren　had　sat　down　at　the　door；　Sparrowhawk　had　looked　at　him；　only　a　glance；　approval：　approval　and　trust。　He　was　the　guard。　There　was　no　danger　if　he　kept　on　guard。　But　it　was　hard；　hard　to　keep　watching　those　two　faces；　the　little　pearl　of　the　lampflame　between　them　on　the　floor；　both　silent　now；　both　still；　their　eyes　open　but　not　seeing　the　light　or　the　dusty　room；　not　seeing　the　world；　but　some　other　world　of　dream　or　death。。。　to　watch　them　and　not　to　try　to　follow　them。。。
　　There；　in　the　vast；　dry　darkness；　there　one　stood　beckoning。　e；　he　said；　the　tall　lord　of　shadows。　In　his　hand　he　held　a　tiny　flame　no　larger　than　a　pearl；　held　it　out　to　Arren；　offering　life。　Slowly　Arren　took　one　step　toward　him；　following。
　
　Magelight
　
　　Dry；　his　mouth　was　dry。　There　was　the　taste　of　dust　in　his　mouth。　His　lips　were　covered　with　dust。
　　Without　lifting　his　head　from　the　floor；　he　watched　the　shadow…play。　There　were　the　big　shadows　that　moved　and　stooped；　swelled　and　shrank；　and　fainter　ones　that　ran　around　the　walls　and　ceiling　swiftly；　mocking　them。　There　was　a　shadow　in　the　corner　and　a　shadow　on　the　floor；　and　neither　of　these　moved。
　　The　back　of　his　head　began　to　hurt。　At　the　same　time；　what　he　saw　came　clear　to　his　mind；　in　one　flash；　frozen　in　an　instant：　Hare　slumped　in　a　corner　with　his　head　on　his　knees；　Sparrowhawk　sprawled　on　his　back；　a　man　kneeling　over　Sparrowhawk；　another　tossing　gold　pieces　into　a　bag；　a　third　standing　watching。　The　third　man　held　a　lantern　in　one　hand　and　a　dagger　in　the　other；　Arren's　dagger。
　　If　they　talked；　he　did　not　hear　them。　He　heard　only　his　own　thoughts；　which　told　him　immediately　and　unhesitatingly　what　to　do。　He　obeyed　them　at　once。　He　crawled　forward　very　slowly　a　couple　of　feet；　darted　out　his　left　hand　and　grabbed　the　bag　of　loot；　leapt　to　his　feet；　and　made　for　the　stairs　with　a　hoarse　yell。　He　plunged　downstairs　in　the　blind　dark　without　missing　a　step；　without　even　feeling　them　under　his　feet；　as　if　he　were　flying。　He　broke　out　onto　the　street　and　ran　full…speed　into　the　dark。
　　The　houses　were　black　hulks　against　the　stars。　Starlight　g